Chapter 99
Evelyn's POV
The days after the beach blurred together in a way that should have unsettled me but didn't.
Julian stayed—not just in my apartment but in my life, weaving himself into the fabric of my daily existence with a persistence that would have alarmed me a week ago. Now, I found myself grateful for it, even as some distant part of my brain screamed warnings about dependency and vulnerability.
We drove separate cars to Titan Security each morning, maintaining the illusion of professional distance. But every evening, his sleek Mercedes would follow my BMW back to Tribeca, and he'd walk through my door like he belonged there. Which, increasingly, he did.
His cologne lingered on my pillows. His razor appeared in my bathroom. A spare suit materialized in my closet. Small invasions that should have triggered my defenses but instead felt like anchors keeping me tethered to something real.
The plans for my mother's revenge remained suspended, a weight pressing against my sternum every time I passed the locked drawer containing her case files. I'd planned to dive back in once Julian left on his business trip—the one he'd mentioned earlier in the week.
We'd been sitting at my kitchen counter three days ago, him reviewing files on his laptop while I pretended to read a book, when he'd brought it up almost casually.
"I have to go out of town next week," he'd said without looking up from his screen. "Leaving Sunday morning, after the engagement party."
"Okay." I'd kept my voice neutral, already calculating in my head. Sunday through when? Four days? Five? Enough time to pull my mother's files, track down the leads I'd been avoiding, maybe even make contact with some of the people who'd been involved in her death. The kind of work that required methods I couldn't explain to someone who operated within legal boundaries, however gray those boundaries might be.
Julian had looked up then, his gray eyes sharp and assessing. "That's it? Just 'okay'?"
"What else do you want me to say?"
"I'm leaving for almost a week and you sound thrilled about it." His tone had been light, but I'd caught the edge underneath.
"I'm not thrilled. I'm just—" I'd stopped, realizing I'd walked into a trap. "It's fine. You have work. I understand."
"You didn't ask where I'm going."
"Do you want me to ask?"
"Most people would." He'd closed his laptop, giving me his full attention in a way that made me want to squirm. "Most people in a relationship, anyway."
I'd set down my book, finally meeting his eyes. "Where are you going?"
"Dubai. Then Singapore. Titan has contracts in both places that need my personal attention." He'd paused. "I'll be gone until Friday."
"Oh." I'd processed that—Sunday to Friday. Five days. Plenty of time. "That's a long trip."
"'Oh.' That's all you have to say?" His voice had taken on a dangerous quality, the one that meant I'd missed something important.
"What do you want me to say, Julian?"
He'd stared at me for a long moment, then shaken his head. "Try again."
"Try what again?"
"Your response. Because right now it sounds like you can't wait for me to leave, and I'm trying very hard not to be insulted by that."
Understanding had dawned slowly, along with a creeping sense of guilt. He wasn't annoyed about my lack of curiosity. He was hurt that I didn't seem to care.
"I didn't mean—" I'd started, but he'd already stood up, crossing to where I sat and bracing his hands on either side of me, caging me in.
"Let me be very clear about something," he'd said, his face inches from mine. "I don't want to go. I have to go, because these are contracts worth millions and they require face-to-face meetings. But I'm going to spend the entire week thinking about you, wishing I was here instead of halfway around the world, and probably being a complete bastard to everyone I meet because I'll be counting the hours until I can come back."
My breath had caught. "Julian—"
"So I'm going to ask you one more time, and I want a real answer." His eyes had been storm-gray and intense. "Are you going to miss me?"
The vulnerability in the question had undone something in my chest. This man—this dangerous, powerful man who commanded armies and negotiated with warlords—needed to know that I would miss him. That his absence would matter.
Before I could answer, he'd kissed me. Hard and demanding, his hands sliding into my hair, tilting my head back so he could take my mouth with a thoroughness that left no room for doubt about what he wanted. When he'd finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"You won't miss me?" he'd asked again, his voice rough. "Won't even wonder where I am or what I'm doing? Won't think about me at all?"
"I'll miss you." The words had come out quieter than I'd intended, but honest. "I will. I just—I didn't realize you needed to hear it."
"I shouldn't need to hear it." His thumb had traced my lower lip. "But apparently when it comes to you, I need a lot of things I didn't think I needed."
"How long did you say?" I'd asked, finally giving him what he wanted. "Sunday to Friday?"
"Five days. Could be six if the Singapore meeting runs long."
"That's—" I'd caught myself before saying 'a long time' in the wrong tone. "That's too long. Why do you have to be gone so long?"
The tension in his shoulders had eased slightly. "Because apparently I've been neglecting my international obligations while I've been obsessed with a certain widow in Tribeca."
I'd pulled him down for another kiss, trying to put into action what I couldn't quite say with words. That yes, I would miss him. That five days felt like too long. That I'd gotten used to his presence in my space, in my life, in my bed, and his absence would leave a void I wasn't sure how to fill.
When we'd broken apart, I'd made myself say it clearly. "I'll miss you. I don't want you to go for that long."
"Better." He'd smiled, genuine this time. "Was that so hard?"
"Yes."
"I know." He'd kissed my forehead. "But you did it anyway. That's progress."
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late." His hands had slid down to my waist. "I'm already used to all of this. You, me, us. Which is why five days is going to feel like forever."
"You'll survive."
"Will I?" He'd pulled me closer. "I'm not so sure. I might need something to remember you by. Something to get me through all those boring meetings."
"Like what?"
His smile had turned wicked. "Use your imagination, Wraith."
I had. And we'd spent the rest of the evening making sure he had plenty of memories to sustain him through his trip.